Mr. Roe

“Brush your teeth,” ordered Mr. Roe’s nurse. “Change your shirt. Comb your hair. Take your medicine. Do your bed. Don’t forget to turn off the lights.”

She made sure Mr. Roe followed his routine. At 6 he was to rise early, dress himself, have his breakfast, take his morning stroll, then have lunch. After lunch, he was allowed visitors, then take another stroll. Dinner was at seven, followed by light reading and finally getting ready for bed. All to start it all over again.

Mr. Roe hated his habitual routines. He hated going to bed early, having a schedule on when to eat, when to read or when to take his walks. Why, he was still self sufficient, he didn’t need her. She was like a shadow he couldn’t get rid of. One of these days he planned to sneak away from her, do what he wanted to do without her supervision. He was a grown man after all.

“Why don’t you?” said a familiar voice.

“Why don’t I, what?” Mr. Roe asked his friend, as he passed by a brass mirror.

“Sneak away from her,” said the voice.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Roe as he went back to the mirror to take a look.

“It shouldn’t be that hard,” said his friendly. “There are many times when is looking away.”

“But where would I go?”

“Where would you go? I hear you complaining about having to do her wonted ways and you ask where you should go?”

“I could visit the Colonel.”

“Then why don’t you. Why, she isn’t even looking.”

“I could also get me an ice cream,” says Mr. Roe. “She never lets me, says I’ll spoil my dinner.”

“Now your talking.”

“Maybe even pass by the park and get me some of those peanuts they sell there.”

“That sounds even better. Go for it, pal. She ain’t even looking.”

Mr. Roe saw his opportunity and snuck out the house. On Talking Terms